FightToWrite

Two green beads blink in the black An unexpected visitor on an abandoned stretch of road Handofate Incarnate Maybe it was Him you should have been worried about all along That Goddamn Son Of A... Your world spirals You struggle for control But that's never been your strong suit And you swerve from one inevitability to another A bigger, brighter pair of eyes Yet somehow far less hopeful It screams You scream The deer probably doesn't scream, but you can't know that for sure Your last dance partner takes you by the hand Your feet are killing you but He makes you keep going Spins you around and around Under His eighteen left feet No

When you are blessed enough, to be inspired enough, to be present in your life and in your moments - even if it's simply more often than not -- you open yourself up to the universe. Like a flower in full bloom, you're open to the nutrition of the elements, of the energy radiating, palpitating at your very acknowledgement. Being present comes with consequences -- love, beauty, seeing not merely looking, knowing not merely believing, doing not merely thinking. Whatever you observe around you, all that you have in your space, in this moment, apart from your mind, body, spirit, and the phenomenal nature that surrounds us : it has all been man-ma

“Oh, my, what ever is the matter My Darling? What are You still doing up?” “Oh, Mother... It was dreadful. I had the most terrible of dreams, and when I awoke it was real.” “Come now... Here, to My arms. There, that's the way.” “I just want everything to be O.K., and it never will be.” “There, there... Lie down and rest now, My Child. Everything is going to be fine.” “I can't...” “You can.” “Sniff.” “I promise You, You'll feel better. Just close Your eyes. Believe that it will be okay.” “They'll all hate Me for it.”

(a Sonnet) He fills both hair and arms to glory her With all the flowers lavender and blue. Draws scent to waiting nostrils blossoms' stir That seems to match the tremor of their hue. He shakes the dewdrops all until they're gone, To rain upon her eyes and lips between. She so adores the muted light of dawn That keeps the colors of her buds pristine. The other colors of this pallet bring A daisy wheel of yellow, red and peach, To give to her a rainbow arc of spring, And give to him her love within his reach; In future parting seasons, colors fade, Their scent, however, never dies away.

You kill us you shoot us you keep us down You enslave torture and sell us for fun You starve us to keep your crown You let us go without seeing the sun You stay on top, oppress us with your faith You are comfortable drowning us in your wealth You feel strength sitting beside your wraith You feel empowered with your good health We shall rise to quell your dominion You will not live to see another day We are glad to rid ourselves of your opression Now it is safe for our children to play We stand united and strong against your tide We will rise, all of us Equal

It is easy to forget, but it’s also easy to remember. To remember is to recall, it is dependant on having had something in mind at a previous time, which you pull to the surface from the recesses of your mind. Some things seem to be easier to remember than others. I find, it is that which requires some effort on our behalf, that is the most important to remember – because it would seem we have a tendency to forget it. Ergo, we are paying more attention to else, while what requires our awareness is raging. In essence –– we must remember to forget what plagues us, and instead make sure to pay attention to that, which w

I know that occasionally, probably, you’ll think of me; and I guess that you’ll agree – there is no more enmity; but, to banish the old need to satiate curiosity proves harder yet and history still keeps us in its custody. If ever you dream to be free you’d find that you have company and the bells that once rang sweet have us spelled in sound defeat. If ever you should wake from he who charms you with his sorcery you’d hear the chimes that signal Time is leaving us behind.